Did you know that this is the first reading journal entry I’ve posted since mid-November? Quite a heartbreaking statement for me to make, especially when reading is very much ‘lifeblood’ to me, and RobAroundBooks is the ‘heart’ that pumps that blood around. This is not to say that I haven’t been reading during this time – far from it – but all of my reading has been selfishly done just for me, as a rehabilitating, soul-nurturing kind of thing.
I find most reading soul-nurturing, even, to some degree, that which I find badly written. However, the more extravagant act of untethering myself from routine and commitment these past few weeks, and wandering the literary landscape as I wish, has brought me back to the picture of health I find myself in today, with batteries once again, fully recharged.
Along with having complete freedom to read as I wish, what has aided my recovery just as much is not having had to be accountable for any of my reading. So I’m not going to go into the details of what I’ve been reading over these past few weeks to any great degree (although some of you would have heard me talk about some of it on Twitter and/or in the few posts I have made), because that brings in the ‘accountability’ element again. However, given the tremendous affinity I have with a certain American city – the one which is often dubbed ‘The Big Apple’ – I think you can guess the flavour of the reading I’ve mainly been doing.
As much as I’ve enjoyed the freedom of what I like to call whim reading however, I now find myself missing again the more structured, purposeful nature of review reading. Not only does one have to read in a completely different, more considered way when reading for review (as I’m sure many of you will know), one has more of a potential for the glorious discovery of a new author or genre to enrich one’s life. This has happened a lot during my 18 months of steering RobAroundBooks around the blogosphere. Authors such as Niccolo Ammaniti, Paolo Giordano and William Trevor have taken root in my heart, and how can I ignore just how much talented writers such as Alain Mabanckou, Chris Abani, Bryony Doran, David Vann and Jayne Joso, have thrilled me with the skillful flair of their creative pen? What a priceless thing to possess – a vehicle for personal literary discovery – and it’s one which would have never taken form had I not begun reviewing books.
So bringing this rather lengthy introduction of this returning first entry of my reading journal to a close (I know you’ll be glad. Sorry! 
), I just want to say that I’m delighted to bring the more structured side of review reading back into my life. Because not only does it bring about all of the advantages I spoke about above (along with offering in some small way some help and guidance to others I hope), but it also plants the catalyst that turns the practice of what is essentially a solo recreation into something of much more value to me. It allows me to solicit response and opinion from others i.e. the beautiful minds that are you guys, and I don’t think it get’s much more soul-nurturing than that.
Thanks for listening and here, at long last, are today’s reading highlights:
So picking up where I left off with the exquisite Presence: Collected Stories of Arthur Miller (Bloomsbury), and the next story up for my reading pleasure was The Misfits. This was a story that penned by Miller in 1957, and it’s probably the most well known of Miller’s short stories, because this was the story that was adapted (quite considerably as it happens) into the movie of the same name in 1961, which starred his then wife Marilyn Monroe, and the legend that is, Clark Gable.
The story follows a trio of cowboys as they awaken on a remote plateau between two desolate mountain ranges, to find that a storm that has been haranguing them for the past few days has now fizzled out. It soon becomes clear however, that these are no conventional cowboys. One – a man called Guido – is not a cowboy at all, but a pilot, and he comes with plane. The other two are traditional cowboys – Gay Langland, the seasoned professional, and his rookie helper Perce Howland – but their methods of ‘mustanging’ are anything but ‘old school’.
And therein lies my favourite theme of this story – the mixing together of old and the new; of the traditional and the modern. On the one hand is the well-seasoned cowboy in Gay Langland, and his learned skills in horse wrangling. On the other is the more modern and mechanised methods that the men employ for the gathering of the horses, with the primary ’rounding up’ tool being a plane.
The Misfits is suggestive of the dawning of a more technological age; the decline of the old and the birthing of a new. In fact it’s more about decline in general; of tradition, of nature and of values. Miller really must have ruminated on this story for a considerable amount of time, such is its suggestive depth of meaning.
For me though the most memorable part of this story is its ending. It’s wholly centred on the horses, and I’ve got admit that this cold-hearted reader actually shed a tear. Not a lot of writers have managed to do that so far. Story Rating: 
****
So very much mixing the old with the new in my reading today, and I got off to a good start with the book that I’ve spoken a lot about this week, Bequest (Headline), the debut novel from Ukrainian-born author Anna Shevchenko. Six chapters in and I’m happy to report that the story is really drawing me in. I feared, given the novel’s politically-flavoured subject matter, that reading proceedings would have been slow and considered. But so far Bequest is showing itself to be the opposite, a real fast mover, with the story whizzing around all over the place (in a controlled way), both in terms of its geography, and of its 200+ year time span.
A linguist, fluent in seven languages, Shevchenko admits with enthusiasm that she loves to play around with her words (she said as much in a recent radio interview), and this is clearly evident in the chapters of Bequest that I’ve read so far. Not only is she making liberal use of ‘exotic’ non-English words in her narrative (where she also embeds uninterrupted definitions – very clever), she’s also demonstrates an element of the sublime in her writing. One of my favourite passages so far has got to be:
The sudden silence is more deafening than the interrogator’s voice. The Fish is scribbling some notes. She wants to ask him when she can go home, but the smoke fills her lungs, her eyes tingle disloyally. She is afraid that if she opens her mouth again, her voice will rise to a shriek and the tears will pour. She has had enough…
OK, admittedly, on its own this extract probably doesn’t stand out as being the most remarkable piece of writing one may ever read, but combine it with the rest of the chapter and this extract really does stand out as being something pretty special.
Of course having only read six chapters so far it’s too soon for me to hail Bequest as an absolute ‘must read’, but early indications are certainly looking promising. The reading continues…
Meantime, remember there’s a chance for you to bag your own SIGNED copy of Anna Shevchenko’s Bequest, regardless of where you live in the world. Head on over to the competition post, drop your name into the comments (you can ignore my request to beg), and cross your fingers. I’m taking entries up until 5pm this coming Wednesday (13th January), after which time I’ll draw the lucky winner at random.
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